I’ve been blogging since 2005. In that time I haven’t amassed a large number of readers, links or written much of meaning or worth. I’m thinking of calling it a day. Twitter seems much more comfortable to me. Most of my posts aren’t over 140 characters anyway.

So this might be it. I’m not sure. We will see how it goes.

A lot functions in our gadgets are superfluous. Poorly thought out design gimmicks that no one really uses. Best example I can think of is photos on an iPod. I have never met anyone who has used this function (though I’m sure someone must have).

What is cool is when gimmicks evolve into proper tools. One of things which I think is really starting to make is the mobile video. Although it’s been successful it always felt gimmicky to me. Sure you can watch “Lost” on the bus but it’s not really enjoyable on that tiny screen while you jostle with commuters is it? And there was the hassle of downloading/converting it (which still exists in Ireland because we don’t get any tv or movies on iTunes or equivalent) etc. But internet speeds picked up and we now have videocasts which were more tailored toward the mobile revolution. I love learning photoshop skills, watching TED talks and getting The Onion news bites.

What other functions can mobile video take? This weekend, Manchester United goalkeeper, Ben Foster used his iPod to watch videos of the opposition to prepare for a penalty shootout. Foster saved a penalty and United went on to win the Cup. I wonder what creative uses someone will think of next?

When they misspell “analysis” in the title

“Protein profile ana lysis of the breast microenvironment to differentiate healthy women from breast cancer patients”

Sorry the blog has fallen behind a bit in terms of nerdiness. I’ve been doing some stuff gearing up to a paper so been a little busy. I had written a nice piece on twitter but it seems to have exploded in the press lately so there are plenty of better, more comprehensive articles to be found.

You can find me on twitter here
http://twitter.com/tomlau

I have a lot more time for quick 140 character posts so you’ll see me on there a lot more than here. I have to update the blogroll and upload scroobius pip photos soon too.

Big hattip to Catherine who tweeted this.

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/
Here’s an example of the delights on the site.

The Hamdog

A hot dog wrapped in a beef patty that’s deep fried, covered with chili, cheese, onions, served on a hoagie bun topped with two fistfuls of fries and a fried egg.

Wow, if only my thesis was coming along so well. Today I wrote a children’s poem about a pyromaniac who gets a job using his knowledge of fire.

Little Harry Murphy loved to make things burn,
Fascinated with fire, like the first caveman to learn,
He wondered at the heat, the smoke and the flame,
With matches and lighters he played all his games.

“Fire Safety Inspector” the job title said,
Harry was perfect, in fire he was well read,
Potential big blazes now delighted his dome,
As he imagined flames in people’s factories and homes.

So I finally got off my arse to write some more short fiction. It was inspired by my commute home and started out a bit too dark and emo at the beginning but I think I rescued it by the end. Let me know what you think! It’s provisionally called “Depressing News”.

The snowflakes danced and flirted with the wind before they were slammed into the windscreen of my bus. Their crippled bodies slowly trickled down with the rain and formed a sagging pile of frost and ice at the bottom of the glass. I watched as the snow grew heavier and the ice slowly became a cold, wet mass grave of snowflakes, covering up almost half the window.

It was freezing outside, the wind lashed pinching ice at you and puddles threatened to sneak into your shoes and wet your socks. Inside it was worse. It was muggy and sweaty as the rabbles of people, burdened with damp coats, scarves, hats and a days worth of weariness, tried to get home. The windows were fogged and the blizzard didn’t offer much anyway. It was either late or the clouds had suppressed the sun, I couldn’t tell.

I wished I could get off. The sweat and restless humidity made me ill. The bus was as much my prison as it was a protector. People’s eyes stared blankly down and to the side, occasionally meeting each others gaze for a split second, then turning away to look down again. No one spoke. No one looked at me. Some closed their eyes but I knew they couldn’t sleep.

This is it. The end of the road. My pathetic optimism that started the morning crushed in a matter of 8 hours (including lunch break). Beaten, used and now abandoned and forgotten. Tomorrow I would be discarded, just like the others. Such is the life of a Herald AM.

Last night I went to see Shane Langan (of the Diet of Worms) host a night of live comedy literature. It was really impressive and inspired me to write something myself (you can check out some of Shane’s prose here).

Unfortunately, I’m busy right now but I used to have a lot more stories and fiction bites on my old blog. So here is an old one stolen from there. It’s a bit crude but quite representative of my lewd, self depreciating personality.

anyway here goes
Fiction bite 2 (written on train back from Liverpool v. AC Milan Champions League Final 07)

I was getting the last train back to London. The big game had been a bit of a let down but the train station was still full of men singing their hearts out and pissing in corners of the station, some of them multi-tasking with mixed results. My legs were tired and I took the only remaining seat on the platform which was next to a tall floppy haired man.

“You got any skins?”

Bollocks, why do I always get the druggies and weirdos?
“No, sorry mate.”

He began to sing some terrace chant but the slurred and out of key words made it difficult to make out who he was supporting. After his friend began to join in I decided to take a walk down the platform. The train was already at the station but the doors were shut, it was due to open them soon enough. As I strolled away from football’s Cheech and Chong I heard the unmistakable tones of a Dublin accent. Searching for the source I found a dark haired woman impatiently pushing at the locked doors of the train while raving down her phone in frustration. She was a cute girl and her pseudo anger looked out of place and made her a little endearing.

“Someone’s in a hurry?”
The lowest form of wit, being an ass, I started brilliantly.

“Yeah, I was meeting my brother here but I promised a friend I’d get back to London in time to see them as well.”

“You’re from Dublin aren’t you?”

“I am, where are you from?”

“Same, jeez, we’re all over the place…”

So we began to talk and she was nice. She told me her name was called Katherine, “with a K” she highlighted. She told me she was a photographer. I had never thought about it before but as we talked about it she made me realise that a photographer is a really attractive occupation in a woman. Creative yet practical and you can make a living off it if you don’t mind doing the boring shots as well as the arty farty stuff. She was going to move to NY in a few months to start a job there. I told her about my work and how I just moved to London. I didn’t want to make out that I was a loser that hadn’t made any friends there yet but I must have implied something to that effect.

“I remember when I first moved to London, I didn’t know anyone but it’s great fun after a while. Hey, you must be in the same boat now. We should go out and you can meet my friends, or we can just go out for coffee or something. Let me give you my number.”

Jesus, out of nowhere I was suddenly with a sexy New York bound photographer who was offering ME her number without me even asking. And she wasn’t even drunk (although I don’t think she was sober either). The train doors opened and as we got onboard she put her arm around me and gave a little squeeze.

“This is great, a new Irish friend. We’re going to have so much fun together!” and she gave me little kiss on my cheek.

Wow, this girl actually wants me! The phone number could have been patriotic sympathy but the kiss was definitely more. She was right, this was going to be great. We got on the train and sat together. We talked some more and after a little while she put her head on my shoulder and said she was knackered and asked (ever so sweetly) if she could sleep on my lap. I did the gentlemanly thing of course. I rested my hand on her shoulder and as she lay down across. As she got comfortable she gently nestled her side of her face over my crotch.

This was amazing, look at me world!

(she snuggled a little bit, a familiar tingle)

Shit! Shit! Think unsexy thoughts! Think unsexy thoughts! This could be the best woman you’ll ever meet and you’re about to blow it by waking her with your penis poking her ear. Think about Andrex puppies getting hit by cars, think about malignant melanoma just don’t think about her soft lips caressing… No! Puppies hit by cars! puppies and cars!

Disaster was averted, just. As Katherine drifted deeper into sleep the snuggling stopped so my only remaining problem was making sure I didn’t fart while this sleeping beauty slept on my lap. My mind wandered and a dilemma arose. I could really do with a few new friends in London but I really wanted this girl tonight. Were the two mutually exclusive? I’ll have to remember to buy condoms. Is there a place that sells them between my place and the station? What about her friend that’s she’s meeting? It’s getting late, they might have gone home, should I go for a kiss before we got to the station?

We drew closer to London and I woke her as she asked me to make sure she didn’t miss her stop.
“Thanks! I really needed that. You’re so nice, sorry I drooled a little.”

She drooled? A beautiful woman just drooled over my crotch! A bit disgusting in reality but spun correctly to my friends this was gold!

We talked some more and realised we shared a love for arthouse film (this girl just get’s better and better). Her stop was one after mine but I stayed on (only an extra 15 minute walk home and it could be well worth it). We got to the platform, chatting about this and that like we had known each other for years. She was lovely. I hoped her sodding friend wasn’t here.

At the station’s exit she scanned the crowd…
“Mark!”
A tall handsome blonde man, rushed toward her picked her up and gave her a big kiss. They walked on arm in arm.

“Mark, this is my friend I just met on the train, he’s from Dublin too!”
Mark gave me warm smile and hearty handshake.
“Pleased to meet you.”
bastard.

“We’re going for a quick drink, would you like to join us?”

“Emm.. no. I better be heading on, got work tomorrow and it’s getting late… you know..”

15 minutes extra walking wasn’t too bad.
And then I felt the first drops of rain…

Japanese Louis Armstrong. Just wow. His parents must be so proud. Hattip to the Graham Linehan